


Peace

by Quirky_Lesbian_Pirate



Series: Domestic Modern AU [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6276916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quirky_Lesbian_Pirate/pseuds/Quirky_Lesbian_Pirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was sometimes the most basic, most normal, moments of the day that reminded you how much you loved a person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace

Their apartment was nothing impressive, not really. Most things were bought from the local thrift shop.  The carpet in the living room was slightly browned, their couch slumped in a bit too much in the middle, their television was filled with static, you could hear the lady upstairs sing as she showered, and the heat didn’t always work.

But to Max, it was paradise. She awoke every morning to bills she was able to pay, to a partner beside her in her bed who would help her to pay them, to a fridge with enough food they could live off of, and to two kittens that liked to sleep with them. She had clothing in her closet, even if it wasn’t filled, a shop two buildings away that she loved to run, and a business partner in Eleanor Guthrie; who she had finally made amends with. 

Light shined in through their curtains, which were hardly thick enough to block out the might of the sun, and she listened as the food processor as it ground together the sauce for the pasta she had in a large bowl beside it. Chopped cherry tomatoes to her right. She wasn’t the best cook in the world, nor was Anne, but they learned to make it work. 

“No meat in that, either?” Max had been vegan for awhile at that point, and Anne had slowly, very slowly, grown used to it, although she still preferred to throw a chicken in the oven, and wait until it ‘looked right’ to eat it. She sat at their round, wooden, kitchen table, in a wicker chair, the tablecloth lace, and looked at the food processor with apprehension, probably thrown by the green color. “Fuck is in it?” 

“Avocados,” Max told her calmly. Vegan was more expensive, but she enjoyed it. She was almost certain Anne even had grown to like some of the meals, even if she would never admit to it. “Amongst many other ingredients, thanks to Miranda’s garden.” Miranda was a roommate of Silver, and Flint. They all shared a house together, Miranda being Flint’s old friend, who moved in with him after the death of Flint’s boyfriend, and had stayed ever since. She had a beautiful garden, and she was kind enough to share. “I promise you, it will taste delicious.” 

Anne just shrugged. Her hair wasn’t gelled into spikes that day, it just rest flat against her head, and her PJ shirt was ripped slightly as chipped black nails played around with her bottle of beer that rest half finished before her. They both had a day off, and looked as such. Max was yet to wash her eyeliner off from the day before, and it was smeared a bit down her face. 

She poured the green sauced into the pasta, and stirred it all together as she then reached for the chopped cherry tomatoes. The sun would set soon enough, but until then Max almost took comfort in the warm glow it cast on their apartment, even if she would have liked more functional curtains. 

The kitchen tile was cool against her bare feet, and she could smell the lemon she’d chopped for the sauce. Her nightgown was soft against her skin, and she watched as one of the cats slowly approached Anne’s foot, chased it as Anne pulled it away from them. Anne wasn’t one for cats, always preferred dogs, but Max reasoned how the cats would be quieter, draw in less annoyance from the neighbors. 

Silver hated the cats when he came over. He was the PR manager for Max’s business, and he was around the apartment quite a bit because of it. He was good at what he did, managed to know just the way to get in people’s heads for the business, and somehow managed to get into a relationship with James Flint, something she was proud to say she was the only one that saw it coming. 

“Would you grab me two plates, please?” She asked Anne, who got up quickly after she asked. The cat followed her movements as she walked over to the white cabinets, and pulled out two paper plates from the plastic wrapping. “Thank you,” she said when Anne set the two plates down for her next to the large bowl of pasta. 

“Internet is shit today,” Anne said suddenly as Max begun to lower the creamy pasta onto one plate. “Wouldn’t load anything.” 

“It is good that I printed out this recipe then, no?” She smiled almost smugly, and Anne let out a small laugh as she waited for Max to finish scooping the pasta onto the plates. When Max was done she pointed to the plate in front of her, Max nodded, and she took it over to the table. The cat followed her the entire way. Anne might not have liked her much, but Bells loved her. 

“Good thing Jack doesn’t live here,” Anne remarked as she started to dig into the pasta already. She had no problem talking with her mouth full. Max took the seat across the table from her. “He’d go fucking nuts if he couldn’t post his videos.” 

Jack had a, mildly successful, youtube channel, and he was rather passionate over it. Anne, on the other hand, had little interest in being in any of his videos. She’d usually bring a hat she could hide her face with if he was recording. 

Anne ate at the food rather quickly as Max slowly slurped some of it up. Very good. It sort of tasted like pasta primavera. “Good?” She asked Anne, and Anne nodded. “Better than meat?” She teased, and Anne looked about ready to flip her off. Anne would probably never want to partake in Max’s lifestyle, but that was alright. 

Because that apartment, the cats that hid under the table at their feet, the sun that broke in through the windows, the pasta on their plastic plates, and the softness of Max’s nightgown all spoke one word to her: content. She was 100% content with everything that surrounded her. She was at peace. 

She ate dinner across the table from a woman she loved, a dinner she herself had made based off a recipe she’d printed off the internet. She had a business she ran with a woman who a few years prior Max never would have even dreamt she’d view Max as an equal. She managed people, handled goods, she had friends, a stable living situation, money in her purse. 

“I love you,” she said softly to Anne, her voice cracked as she said it, and Anne froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. The sun was to Anne’s back, and it reflected just how red her hair was. Cast a glow behind her. The moment was so normal, so...comforting. It was so plainly regular that Max felt that she could break down in tears just at the experience of it. 

“Yeah,” Anne whispered, she had to clear her throat as she set down her fork, looked away at the floor. “I...um…”

Max reached across the table, captured one of Anne’s wayward hands, and Anne looked first at the clasped hands, then at Max once more. Wonderment was in her features, and perhaps, something that many would suspect was impossible, fear. “You do not have to say it back,” Max told her, felt her throat constrict. “But I wanted you to know.” 

Anne paused, froze up for a moment. Max almost wondered if she’d made a mistake before she slowly felt her hand lift upwards, and lips press into the knuckles. 

The action spoke more than words ever could. 

At that moment Max had achieved something she only ever thought she could dream of…

Peace. 


End file.
